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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731324">gravity (oneshot prose)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/justacalamity/pseuds/justacalamity'>justacalamity</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abstract, Angst, Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, F/F, Female Sherlock Holmes, Inspired by Richard Siken, John Watson's Reichenbach Feels, Johnlock - Freeform, Keira Knightley as Sherlock Holmes, OTP Feels, Reichenbach Feels, Sherlock Holmes Is Not Okay, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, prose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:26:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>493</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/justacalamity/pseuds/justacalamity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>❝ you refuse to use the past tense; you think this will keep me alive somehow, because no one else knew how to. ❞</p><p>an abstract look at post-reichenbach johnlock ; heavily inspired by the works of richard siken.</p><p>( tw: blood, guns, mentions of gore )</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>gravity (oneshot prose)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>for shannon, gia, gigi, holly and sws.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p3">
  <b>1</b>
</p><p class="p3">the bed isn’t the same. you’re on a hospital gurney, tossing and turning and hearing sudden thuds on the ceiling above you,</p><p class="p3">as if someone has jumped down from a high place and collided with the ground beneath.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">you shake your head. the sounds grow louder. the cats are still asleep.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">you close your eyes again, and it’s morning and evening and morning and evening</p><p class="p3">and you’re waiting for someone to take you away from here,</p><p class="p3">someone in the shape of a woman in a coat and scarf who thinks she knows everything there is.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3"><em>she has dark curly hair, and smells like smoke. </em>you refuse to use the past tense; you think this will keep me alive somehow, because no one else knew how to.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p3">
  <b>2</b>
</p><p class="p3">one foot in front of the other.</p><p class="p3">one foot in the grave, one in your mouth for all the things you shouldn’t have said, to me or your mother or anyone else.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">you blink, and the vision fades. there’s fresh concrete beneath your feet. you can’t remember when it’s been changed.</p><p class="p3">you blink, and the blood disappears, but you swear you can feel it still dripping down your arms.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">or maybe it’s always been me in your hands. me, kissing each of your fingers one by one, then falling, falling through the gaps between them.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">left, right.</p><p class="p3">left, eyeballs in your coffee, right.</p><p class="p3">left, skulls on your kitchen table, right.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">are you limping again, soldier ?</p><p class="p3"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p3">
  <b>3</b>
</p><p class="p3">you open the fridge, and all you want is apple juice.</p><p class="p3">you open the fridge, and you get jars and jars of hearts and other viscera, horrible things you never dared open, jars of ecstasy and hurt and spite and longing.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">jars you pried open and threw to the floor one by one, but i’m not here to see this, you’re directing the scene,</p><p class="p3">so now you’re covered in bits of glass,</p><p class="p3">tiny jewels embedding themselves in your eyes and lips and forehead,</p><p class="p3">places i’ve kissed you, places you can never hide from, hide in, hide away.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">these radiant places. see how they shine like i did, when your hands first found their way under my skin and i begged you for more,</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">but it’s all gone with the jars now.</p><p class="p3">the juice is sweet. the blood is not.</p><p class="p3">though i know you wish it was.</p><p class="p3"> </p>
<hr/><p class="p3">
  <b>4</b>
</p><p class="p3">months later and i’m still lying on the pavement, your pavement. sometimes you’ll talk to me, and if you’re lucky my heart will be beating, my breath just warm against your cheek. if you’re lucky you’ll shatter into stars, like the ones we gazed on once upon a time.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">no one cleans up these days.</p><p class="p3">someone tried long ago, but you shot him in the arm, then put the gun in your mouth,</p><p class="p3">until you realised it wasn’t in the shape of my spine, and spat it out again.</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p3">you know i’m still dead,</p><p class="p3">but you’ll take what you can get here.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
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